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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699034">I had a statement earlier that didn't agree with me...</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/neworld/pseuds/neworld'>neworld</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Withdrawal, emento but from eating horror so not really, sick Jon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:28:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,722</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/neworld/pseuds/neworld</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt on tumblr if statements are like food or at least a form of sustenance to jon whats the beholding monster equivalent of vomiting? im proposing jon feeling sick and trying to read a statement to feel better and instead he starts retching and anyone in the immediate vicinity suddenly gets a flash of random horror knowledge and accompanying nausea. as if jon wasnt already unpopular enough around the office.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>262</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I had a statement earlier that didn't agree with me...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon had not been feeling exactly well for a long time, he had been through a lot lately, stress, paranoia, sleep deprivation, being kidnapped, beat up, burnt, psychologically tortured, not to mention the exhaustion and jetlag from his whirlwind trip around the world. So when the archivist woke up with a scratchy throat and a head ache he barely noticed it.  But the nausea he felt when he tried to eat breakfast got his attention. His stomach churned at the thought of food.  He forced down some dry toast and a cup of tea, it was almost more than he could manage but he felt steadier afterwards. </p>
<p>He didn’t even consider calling in sick, he was hoping that reading a statement would simply fix the feeling of illness, remembering how sick he had felt when he had gone too long without one and how much better he felt afterwards. </p>
<p>Glancing at himself in the reflection of the glass doors at the entrance to the institute Jon realised he looked horrible, his face drawn and pinched with darker than usually bags pooling under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was an eccentric mess and his clothes were rumpled and had clearly been slept in.  He decided he should maybe try to avoid his co-workers and any questions they might have.  Jon hadn’t told them about the statement withdrawal, he was trying to be more open and honest with everyone but they generally had not reacted well to hearing about his supernatural powers or anything relating to them. He understood, it wasn’t like he was thrilled about changing into some kind of fear monster either.</p>
<p>He tried to run straight to his office to hide and read a statement. He managed to sneak past everyone but Basira as he crept through the institute to his office. But she was coming down the hallway his office opened into, so he had no choice but to speak to her.</p>
<p>“You look like shit.”  Basira told him blandly, raising an eyebrow at his sickly appearance. </p>
<p>“I’m fine.”  Jon told her irritably, further annoyed by how raspy his voice sounded.</p>
<p>“Well, you <em>look</em> like shit.”  She repeated stubbornly.</p>
<p>Jon scowled and stepped around her.  Luckily for him she didn’t seem to be all that interested in an explanation and just let him go and went on her own way.</p>
<p>Relieved Jon settled himself at his desk and flicked through the statements he had already set out the previous day.  None of them really called to him.  His stomach rolled unpleasantly at the thought of reading one, but he was sure though that if he could just get through one he would feel better. </p>
<p> He settled on a statement at random. </p>
<p>“Statement of Daren Williams regarding a statue.”</p>
<p>Jon began, then had to pause as a bolt of pain split his head.  He hissed and rubbed at his temples, trying to sooth the throbbing, his stomach did another roll and he moaned, willing his body to cooperate with him long enough for him to get through the statement. </p>
<p>The statement was the account of a man who was convinced a statue in a park near his house came alive at night.  Instead of his health improving as he had hoped Jon’s head pounded so badly his eyes struggled to focus on the words and the nausea only intensified until he had to stop reading and gag, clamping his hands over his mouth. </p>
<p>He didn’t throw up, instead there was just an odd sensation, like when you are trying to remember something you know you have been told but can’t quite bring it to the forefront of your mind.  He glanced down at the statement puzzled to realise he had no idea what it was about, even though he was fairly sure he had just read most of it.</p>
<p>He massaged his temples with his fingertips wincing and squinting at the statement in frustration.</p>
<p>An abrupt and somewhat angry sounding knock startled him out of his confusion.</p>
<p>“Come in.”  He called out.</p>
<p>  Melanie, Basira and Tim marched in all looking somewhere between puzzled, alarmed and annoyed.</p>
<p>“What the fuck?”  Melanie fumed, she looked furious, more so even than usual.</p>
<p>“What happened?” Jon asked, his eyes flickering from one to the next, looking for signs of injury, worrying slightly that they may be under attack.</p>
<p>“That’s what we want to know.”  Tim told him angrily.</p>
<p>“I…er…need more information” Jon stammered, he wasn’t sure what Tim or Melanie meant, he looked to Basira for help.  She was also giving him an accusatory look but seemed the least hostile out of the three of them.</p>
<p>“We were all in the kitchen when this…I don’t know…wave of information and…nausea just kind of washed over us.”  Basira told him bluntly.</p>
<p>“It was disgusting.”  Melanie snaps.  “I just suddenly…<em>knew</em> about this guy who was watching a statue come to life a night and kill people.”</p>
<p>Jon just gaped at them, bewildered, he tried to think of a similar statement to what they were describing, an entity that could be responsible for this but his thoughts felt thick and sluggish.</p>
<p>“Some of the information we just knew is that this statement was recorded by you, this morning.”  Tim added. </p>
<p>Jon blushed furiously; he didn’t remember doing anything, he didn’t see how this <em>could</em> be his fault but somehow felt guilty anyway. </p>
<p>“I didn’t…” But before he could get any further Basira reached forward and picked up the statement he had been reading.</p>
<p>“This statement is about a statue coming alive at night to kill people.”  Basira said, an edge of accusation in her tone. </p>
<p>Jon shrugged at them all helplessly.</p>
<p>“Whatever happened…I… uh…it wasn’t intentional.”  Jon insisted.</p>
<p>He resisted the urge to be angry at their hostility.  They were all traumatised by the supernatural, so it was no surprise really that they were all suspicious when he displayed signs of being supernatural.  He just wished they would appreciate that these things were usually just as unnerving for him as they were for everyone else.</p>
<p>“Just don’t do it again.”  Melanie seethed at him and left the room by opening the door with far more force and noise than necessary and stomping off.  Tim left too, but his was a quiet anger. </p>
<p>Basira stayed behind, still looking him in the eye, clearly expecting more of an explanation.</p>
<p>“I…”  He had to pause and cough to clear his throat.  “I really don’t know what happened.”  He told her with genuine regret.</p>
<p>Basira nodded once.</p>
<p>“What were you trying to do when it happened?”  She asked, but she no longer sounded angry, more curious.</p>
<p>“Nothing.”  Jon told her, he really wasn’t sure, his head felt fuzzy. Thinking was so hard, as if putting thoughts together tugged at strained at overused muscles.</p>
<p>“I was just about to read the statement, then you all just burst in.” He told her then frowned, had he been?  Maybe he had already started it?  His nose was beginning to run, he sniffled and pressed his knuckles to his nose while he hunted around for a handkerchief.</p>
<p>Basira was still staring at him with a small frown.</p>
<p>He gave up on his search and just sniffled harder. The sound made him wince inwardly with embarrassment.</p>
<p>“What?”  He asked Basira, not managing to keep all the irritation out of his tone.</p>
<p>“You’re sick.” Basira half stated half asked. </p>
<p>He scowled at her.</p>
<p>“It’s nothing.”  He snapped, but his voiced cracked and he had to cough to clear his throat again. It went on longer than he expected though, one light cough turning into several painful ones. When he got it under control Basira was still looking at him, arms crossed unimpressed.</p>
<p>He sighed.</p>
<p>“I think I have just gone too long without reading a statement.”  Jon admitted hesitantly. “It seems I’m dependant on them now, if I go too long between…I get sick.”</p>
<p>“Like withdrawal?”  Basira asked.</p>
<p>“I’m not sure… I think so.” Jon sighed.</p>
<p>“That’s not a good sign.”  Basira frowned.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m aware of that.”  Jon snapped, slumping more onto his desk.</p>
<p>“Maybe you should try and ride it out.”  Basira reasoned, ignoring his prickliness.  “Break the addiction.”</p>
<p>Jon shook his head.</p>
<p>“I’d be out of commission for days.”  He argued.  “And we need to find out how to stop the unknowing.” </p>
<p>Basira remained impassive but she nodded.</p>
<p>“Well, we do need you in working order, having a human lie detector is pretty convenient I’ll admit it.”  She told him frankly.</p>
<p>He felt relieved she wasn’t going to fight him on this and it must have shown in his face because she added.</p>
<p>“But then, that’s what addicts always say isn’t it.  I’ll stop, just not yet.”</p>
<p>“Basira…” He began, but then just trailed off, unsure what he had even planned on arguing.  His head felt like it was full of static.</p>
<p>“Just keep it in mind.”  Basira told him and left him too it.</p>
<p>Once she was gone Jon lay his head on the desk and just spent a minute trying to pull himself together.  Listening to his pulse thump in his temple. </p>
<p>After a moment of composing himself Jon sat up and tried another statement.  This one clearly featured the not-them.  It reminded him painfully of Sasha.  Perhaps the statement withdrawal was messing with his emotions because he felt such a rush of grief and regret it almost bough tear to his eyes.  He pushed it down.  He didn’t have time to indulge in things like emotional reactions.  He had to find a way to stop the unknowing.  He forced himself to keep reading, even as his eyes burned and his head pounded. </p>
<p>But then the nausea returned, and he had no choice but to stop.  It was so sudden and intense he only had the chance to look over at the bin and wonder if he could make it there before he gagged, he fleetingly noticed the odd sensation of lost knowledge again before he stumbled over to the bin and retched violently into it. </p>
<p>When he was done he slumped against the wall, he was still sitting there, trying to decide whether he was going to be sick again, when everyone burst back into his office.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Melanie and Basira were back at their desks, Martin and Tim were in the breakroom and Daisy was heading into the breakroom when they were all suddenly hit with a wave of nausea and accompanying random chunks of horror story knowledge that stopped them all in their tracks.</p>
<p>Martin, who had been making a cup of tea, dropped the cup. </p>
<p>Tim, who had just been fucking around on his phone, because why not, fuck you Elias, jumped and dropped the phone. He tisked in annoyance. </p>
<p>Melanie growled, sounding dangerously close to deranged.</p>
<p>Daisy tensed like she was ready for a fight.</p>
<p>“What the hell was that?” She demanded.</p>
<p>“Jonathan Sims.”  Melanie fumed getting up, her body rigid with anger. “I don’t know what he’s doing but…”</p>
<p>“Calm down Melanie.” Basira said standing up after her.</p>
<p>“Explain.” Daisy said in low serious voice that remined them all she was kind of a scary person.</p>
<p>Melanie scowled.</p>
<p>“He did it before, about half an hour ago, he just <em>forced</em> information into our heads.”  She told Daisy angrily.</p>
<p>“He said he didn’t do it on purpose though.”  Basira added.</p>
<p>“Do you believe him?”  Daisy asked.</p>
<p>Basira nodded.</p>
<p>Melanie scoffed.</p>
<p>Martin just looked bewildered by the whole conversation.</p>
<p>“Jon?  Wot?”  He asked, his eyes flickering from one person to the next, still trying to process the disturbing imagery that had just been forced into his head.</p>
<p>“I don’t think he was lying.”  Tim said, somewhat begrudgingly.  “We’d know, he’s <em>shit </em>at lying, it’s embarrassing how shit he is at lying.”</p>
<p>“He can just put information into your mind?”  Daisy asked, her eye glinting with a feral anger that belied her calm voice. She strode off towards the archivist’s office.  Melanie, seemingly keen on yelling at Jon again, strode after her.</p>
<p>“Wait.”  Basira protested following the two of them.</p>
<p>Martin also followed them, feeling dazed and worried for Jon, he didn’t know what was happening yet, but it definitely seemed like a worry about Jon situation to him.</p>
<p>Bursting into to Jon’s office Daisy was met with a sight she hadn’t expected.  She wasn’t sure what she had expected, maybe Jon messing around with some kind of ritual or book?  But she had definitely not expected to find Jon slumped against the wall, pale and sweaty and shaking, one arm loosely hooked around the bin from which the sour odour of vomit wafted. </p>
<p>Melanie gave a cry of revulsion and fury.</p>
<p>“Are you fucking kidding me?”  She snapped.</p>
<p>Jon looked up at her startled, his eyes hazy and struggling to focus on her.</p>
<p>“Are you telling me that whatever the hell just happened was the eldritch knowledge monster equivalent of being thrown up on?” Melanie hissed, disgusted.</p>
<p>Jon groaned in a way that managed to sound both queasy and annoyed somehow.</p>
<p>“Is it?”  Daisy growled at Jon.</p>
<p>Jon just shrugged miserably.</p>
<p>Melanie grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to his feet with a display of strength that was unexpected from her slight frame.</p>
<p>“I warned you if this happens again….”  She seethed.</p>
<p>Jon yelped in alarm at being moved so roughly when he was barely keeping it together as it was.</p>
<p>“Let him go.”  Basira ordered. “Look at him, he’s not well.” </p>
<p>“I know.”  Melanie said scathingly. “He just threw up all over us.” </p>
<p>She did let go of Jon though, and stormed out of the office. Jon almost dropped to the floor when Melanie released him, she was all that had been keeping him upright.  But he managed to grab the wall and remain somewhat standing.  </p>
<p>Martin, who hadn’t actually seen Jon, with all the other people in the room in the way, now pushed his way to Jon’s side.</p>
<p>“Jon, are you alright?”  Martin asked putting a gentle hand on Jon’s shoulder to steady him.</p>
<p>Jon shook his head miserably. </p>
<p>“I think I’m going to be sick again soon.”  He admitted, looking frightened by the prospect.</p>
<p>“And then someone will probably kill me.”</p>
<p>Martin wasn’t sure if he was trying for his usually dry self-deprecating humour or if Jon was genuinely frightened that this would happen.</p>
<p>Daisy glared at him.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to <em>kill</em> you for throwing up.” She rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>“It might be best if you take him down to document storage.”  Basira told Martin. </p>
<p>“What? No, he needs to go home and rest.” Martin argued.</p>
<p>Basira shook her head.</p>
<p>“Better to keep him in the institute while he is having some kind of supernatural… episode.”  Basira said bluntly.</p>
<p>Martin expression was outraged.</p>
<p>“Episode?”  Jon grouched.</p>
<p>Then he gagged again and more horror images and details flooded into the minds of everyone in the near vicinity. There was a communal cry of anger and disgust from out in the offices.</p>
<p>“Document storage.”  Basira told Martin and Jon firmly.</p>
<p>Martin sighed, taking Jon’s arm he led him along as Jon was still unsteady on his feet. </p>
<p>Tim and Melanie glared at the two of them as they made their way through the office.</p>
<p>Jon cringed in shame.</p>
<p>“Oh like you never threw up on anyone Tim.”  Martin snapped at him as they walked past. </p>
<p>Jon smiled weakly.</p>
<p>Once they made it to the document storage room Martin lowered Jon onto the cot and dashed out of the room promising he’d be back soon.</p>
<p>Jon lay there miserably for a few minutes breathing carefully, trying to calm his stomach. His head still pounded, and his skin felt tight and overly sensitive.  He felt like he could feel every thread in his shirt, his belt seemed to cut into his stomach. He felt so overwhelmed by the amount of sensory information his brain was trying to process it all turned into a sharp static that he could make no sense of.</p>
<p>“Jon?”  A voice cut through the static and made him jump slightly.</p>
<p>“Only me.”  It was Martin, holding a glass of water and the first aid kit.</p>
<p>Jon made an effort to sit up and take the glass of water Martin was holding.  His hands shook so badly that Martin didn’t let go of the glass.  He helped Jon lift it to his lips. </p>
<p>He was very cautious of the amount of water he let in.  It felt blissful on his throat, but he didn’t want to be sick again.  He dropped his hands after a few sips and let Martin take the glass away.</p>
<p>Then Martin was bustling around him, calm and quiet.  He took Jon’s shoes off for him and pulled back the blankets.</p>
<p>Jon wanted to take his trousers off too, or at least the belt.  It was making him so uncomfortable.  He wanted to warn Martin so he didn’t get embarrassed.  But when he tried to explain he started coughing and couldn’t stop until he made himself gag. </p>
<p>Martin recoiled as horrible images and facts flashed through him with a wave of nausea. He also gagged a bit.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry Martin.”  Jon croaked out miserably.</p>
<p>Martin gave him a sad look.</p>
<p>“Jon, don’t, it’s not your fault.”  Martin assured him, his tone was comforting, full of worry and warmth.  He handed Jon a plastic sick bag from the first aid kit.</p>
<p>“I don’t know why they are being so…<em>hostile</em> to you, I mean, it’s <em>obvious</em> you can’t help it.”</p>
<p>Jon looked up Martin blearily for a moment. He was hunting through the first aid kit, his forehead creased with concern. </p>
<p>“Martin I…” He wanted to explain that he didn’t deserve Martin’s pity, that he was turning into a monster and everyone could tell, that’s why they hated him.</p>
<p>But Martin interrupted him with a thermometer, which he just shoved into Jon’s mouth, effectively silencing him.</p>
<p>Jon squeaked in protest around the thermometer.</p>
<p>“Oh I know that if I’d asked you first you would have <em>insisted</em> it wasn’t necessary but you definitely have a fever so I thought I’d just skip the arguing with you about it part.” Martin told him calmly.</p>
<p>Before Jon could try to argue he heard someone else approach. It was Basira.</p>
<p>“Has he been sick again since you came down here?” Basira asked.</p>
<p>“Yes.”  Martin told her.</p>
<p>“OK good.”  Basira said, clearly relieved.</p>
<p>“Good?” Martin asked angrily, his voice going high and a bit shrill.</p>
<p>Jon wheezed a vaguely offended sound.</p>
<p>“I mean to say we didn’t feel it up in the offices.” Basira amended.</p>
<p>“Oh well isn’t that just peachy then.”  Martin muttered, he still sounded angry.</p>
<p>Jon just nodded vaguely, he felt fuzzy and overwhelmed.  The thermometer beeped and he jumped, he had forgotten about it.</p>
<p>Martin took it from him gently.</p>
<p>“39.3” He read aloud.</p>
<p>“That’s pretty high.”  Basira sounded slightly worried for the first time.</p>
<p>“Was it this bad last time?”  She asked.</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”  Jon said, he sounded vague and confused.  “I didn’t take my temperature.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean last time?”  Martin asked.</p>
<p>“When I was in America, I uh… went too long without reading a statement and…” He trailed off, because he couldn’t remember if he had already told Martin all this and anyway Martin’s face was doing that thing it did when he made a realisation.</p>
<p> “You sounded awful when you called.”  He remembered.</p>
<p>“Yes, well it seems that reading statements…it’s no longer just a compulsion, it’s more like…” He was loath to say it.</p>
<p>“An addiction.”  Basira added helpfully.</p>
<p>Jon sighed and it triggered another coughing fit.</p>
<p>“So this is…what?  Statement withdrawal?” Martin asked.</p>
<p>Jon nodded through his coughing fit.</p>
<p>“Why haven’t you just read a statement?” Basira asked.  “Won’t that fix it?”</p>
<p>“I’ve been trying.”  Jon strained to say but it came out as an unintelligible wheeze, he cleared his throat and tried again.</p>
<p>“I’ve been trying.”   His voice was there, but very husky.</p>
<p>“I can’t seem to keep them down.” Jon told Basira dejectedly. </p>
<p>“You’re ill because you haven’t read any statements, but you can’t read statements because you are ill.”  Basira summarised, blandly amused.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t throwing up last time.” Jon puzzled, thinking he would have had even more people trying to attack him in America if he’d been vomiting horror knowledge at them.  Another difference occurred to him.</p>
<p>“And I felt a lot better instantly after I read a statement last time.”  Jon</p>
<p>“I think maybe you’re coming down with something as well.” Martin told Jon gently.</p>
<p>Jon frowned as he considered this, it would explain why he felt quite so terrible.</p>
<p>“It’s amazing this hasn’t happened sooner really, with how poorly you take care of yourself.”  Martin told him.  His tone was light, almost teasing, almost fond. Jon felt a rush of gratitude that Martin was there, that Martin still cared what happened to him despite everything.</p>
<p>Jon relaxed a little into the mattress, trusting Martin to take care of everything. He closed his eyes, it felt like only a for a second but when he opened them Basira was gone and Martin had a bottle of something disgusting looking he seemed to want Jon to try and swallow.</p>
<p>Jon blinked at him, confused by the time loss.</p>
<p>“Basira did a pharmacy run.”  Martin explained calmly.  “If you can keep this down, we’ll try some dry toast, and then maybe a statement alright?” </p>
<p>His voice was so gentle and kind Jon wanted to burst into tears. He nodded, feeling pathetic but once again grateful.</p>
<p>He managed the medicine without throwing up or projecting anymore horror knowledge.</p>
<p>“Good.” Martin told him.  “I’m just going to fetch you some toast, won’t be a moment.”</p>
<p>Jon grabbed his hand weakly before he could leave.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Martin.”  He told him feverishly.</p>
<p>Martin gave him a started smile.</p>
<p>“It’s alright Jon, really it’s nothing.” </p>
<p>And while Jon waited for him to return he wished he could find the words and the courage to explain it wasn’t nothing.  That his kindness and care were incredibly important and admirable.  But by the time Martin returned he still couldn’t think of how to drag a sentence out of his fever addled brain. </p>
<p>Martin didn’t seem to mind.</p>
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